Let It Fly, Rose
by xxWavexxRiderxx
Summary: A little drabble based on my Common Dwarf Warden, named Rosetta. A little imagining of what happened when she had to kill Leske. This is completely what went on in my head. And I just needed to write it down.


As Rosetta lifted up her bow, she couldn't help but wonder, if things could have been different. Her mind followed the trail of decisions that led her to this moment, this one moment, that she wished wasn't so.

Her right hand reached behind her head, reaching for an arrow from her quiver. She paused as her fingertips brushed the scraggly owl feathers she had foraged to fletch them with. Even this was strange to her. So unlike the fine steel and iron fletched arrows so known to Dwarven hands.

These were surfacer arrows. Still deadly when launched from her bow. Still thudded into the target with the same sickening finality. But the brown feathers were just another example to prove how much she had changed. How different she was.

How easily she had thrown aside her heritage, and with it, the people she cared about.

Her right hand wavered, hovering over the arrows, as if deciding whether she needed them. Her gaze lowered towards the floor. Her bow sunk down. She couldn't even look her target in the eyes, couldn't even look at their feet. How was she expected to fire an arrow into their heart?

She lifted her gaze upwards and met the eyes of Leske.

The angry set of his face and shoulders made her fingers twitch on the arrow, so ready to grab it and let loose with every ounce of betrayal she felt coursing through her bones.

But those soft brown eyes rested on hers. Watching her every move. Resigned to his fate whatever it would be. Her hand lowered, leaving the arrow in its quiver.

She remembered all the times those eyes had held the gaze of her's. The twinkle in his eyes every time he mentioned Rica, quickly replaced by laughter when Rosetta had rolled her eyes or moved to punch him, dancing out of the way, joking about how jealous she was. That's about when her punch did connect with him, but he always laughed it away, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and messing up her neat ponytail with his free hand.

"Always have to be so neat and tidy, you have to live a little salroka"

Salroka.

In dwarven tongue it has always been referred to as the word for friend.

But that is just a loose translation.

It means "the one by my side".

~

The drip of blood behind her woke her from her memories. The soft strokes of a cloth against metal, the continued drips as blood was wiped clean. Then the dull ring of metal as a blade was replaced in its sheathe.

Her head moved slightly to her left, as Alistair stepped into her eye line. His right hand still rested on the handle of his sword, his shield still raised defensively, his shoulders heaving as he fought to gain back his breath after the fight. But his gaze rested not on Leske, but on her. His eyebrows raised, a question in his eyes.

She knew what he was asking. If she wanted to do the killing blow herself. But despite her heart wanting to accept his offer she knew that job must fall to her own shoulders.

Rosetta shook her head and turned back to face Leske.

~

It was funny the way how her relationship's with both Leske and Alistair started off so similarly.

Thrown together through necessity and not a real need to be near each other.

Leske was partnered with her as a way of aiding her into the Carta's way of doing things. But he was a nuisance to her. Constantly joking and making light of a situation Rosetta only saw as a way to earn vital money to keep her family afloat. She saw him as a unnecessary hurdle on a way up the underworld ladder.

But they grew close. Unexpectedly close.

When Leske first saw Rosetta's talent with a bow, he teased her for it, claiming that she must be an elf in disguise for her ability to use the slim longbow, rather than the sturdy crossbow favored by Dwarf. He even asked if she had been to surface to get it, seeing as no merchant stocked it. When she had first started she had worn her hair loose, but Leske had kept ruffling checking that no pointy elvhen ears were hidden underneath, so she switched the neat ponytail to stop him from doing that.

But when he realized how accurate she was, he began to trust the assassination missions to her, acting as her eyes, steadying her hand before indicating the perfect moment to let loose.

Those quiet moments waiting for a target, when the only company they had was each other.

Jarvia hadn't known how close she had hit the mark with that "one last tumble" jibe.

Oh how Rosetta had enjoyed loosing that arrow into Jarvia's skull, finishing her off with an unnecessary, but oh so pleasant slash to the throat with her dagger. She had even aimed a kick at that duster's body.

Duster.

Wasn't this what she was? It was the only title that had ever flowed well off the tongue. Some would say she should now be called the Aunt of a future Orzammar king. More would say she was a Grey Warden now.

But no. Those did not fit.

She was a duster born and bred. She had the brand on her face to prove it.

Only a duster would be willing to kill the one person who wasn't family that she had grown to care about.

~

She had felt so guilty, with those strange feelings of attachment toward's Alistair.

He was human!

It wasn't allowed.

But in a strange way, his humour, the way they had grown close together in an impossible situation...

It was like falling for Leske all over again.

But the guilt stopped her from pursuing it, she brushed away Alistair.

He knew enough not to question it, he spied the pain in her eyes.

~

She shut her eyes, closing of the feelings that were threatening to show.

She breathed in deep and opened them again, her hand whipping an arrow from her quiver before she could change her mind.

Her hand shook as she notched the arrow on the sting and took aim.

But something made her pause.

"Was it all a lie?" She found her voice saying.

Leske glanced up, his angry face softened, as he saw the shake in her draw arm, the pain in her eyes.

He sighed.

"I wish it was salroka, but no, none of it was lie, it was all true."

He drew his daggers from their sheathes and dropped them at his feet.

Rosetta glanced down at the blood covered blades. Whose blood was it? Her's? Alistair's? It might have been Morrigan's, who was currently treating a gash in her leg, glaring at Leske, a murderous glint that Rosetta knew well. It definitely did not belong to Shale. No rock bleeds.

She shut her eyes "I shouldn't have left you behind." she whispered.

He shook his head. "You did what you had to. For what's its worth... I'm sorry. I know a duster is always a duster but I should have been stronger."

He knelt on the ground and looked her straight in the eye. A smile playing on his lips, as something humored him.

"Let it fly, Rose"

Rosetta felt her hand release as the age old order that had loosed all the arrows previously, washed over her. She didn't even have time to stay her hand, to fight it. The order was a natural release for her weapon. The order that released the steady hand on her shoulder when the target was in reach.

She dropped her bow, the tears welling in her eyes, but she did not move to stop them now. She couldn't.

A hand rested on her shoulder, but she ignored it for now, her emotions held her immobile.

She did not move, she resembled Shale at least in part.

Morrigan glanced over "Betrayal is always the hardest blade to fall. You should not let it fall again" her curt voice broke through the still air, as she wrapped up her a leg and strode from the room.

A sob rose up in Rosetta's throat, and she found herself instinctively reaching for Alistair, his arms wrapping around her.

Of course it was his hand that had rested on her shoulder. It was he offered to kill Leske. He knew how difficult this was but he let her handle it in her own way.

Of course she needed Alistair.

He understood loss, understood betrayal.

And right now, he was exactly what she needed to heal her broken heart. 


End file.
